Primal Instinct
by weebwritings
Summary: Animals. That's all we are when you cut down to the heart of things. Basic beasts with the same red hot need to survive branded onto our brains; a need that could be put over all else if push came to shove. And in wartime, push definitely came to shove.


He was close. Too close.

Dimly Jack noted that he could smell the sour stench of cigarettes on the Viet Cong's breath. Then one strong arm locked itself around his neck in a death grip and a primal fear took over.

He was more powerful than Jack had initially thought, certainly more powerful than his thin, wiry frame let on. He easily pinned Jack against the ground and held him there as he struggled vainly. It was like fighting a brick wall.

Rich earth filled his mouth, nose and ears and got in his eyes as he blindly kicked out, knees and feet connecting dully with unyielding flesh. The thought that this bloke must be on drugs ran through his mind again and again in a fervent mantra. Jack's own strength seemed nonexistent and the training in hand-to-hand combat he'd had left him as sheer instinct took over.

With an effort, Jack managed to wrap his own arm around his assailant's neck and squeeze. He could feel fingers scrambling for purchase on his left cheek – no doubt going for the eyes – and he turned his face away and held on for dear life. The weight above him slackened somewhat and he used this as an opportunity to roll them.

The face below him was twisted into a feral expression of rage and fear. Another thought entered his mind: only one of them was going to walk away from this fight; Jack would be damned, though, if that wasn't going to be him.

He took a chance and freed one of his hands from the iron grip he had on the VC's throat and slammed a clenched fist into his nose. Blood sprayed out and the man beneath him started to scream. Again and again Jack brought his fist down; but he saw nothing and heard nothing, just the rapid paced drumming of his heartbeat in his own ears.

And suddenly the scene below him took on colour and definition and Jack's stomach heaved at the sight. He hurriedly released the Viet Cong and scrambled backwards. Horrified, he braced himself against the base of a nearby tree and dry retched. All he could think was what he had done – what he had _intended_ to do – to the other man. Of course he was the enemy. He had been trying to kill him and he would have undoubtedly succeeded if Jack's instincts hadn't kicked in saved his ass. Jack should have hated him for this, but instead his stomach just roiled at the thought of the sheer animalistic need to hurt the other man, to punish him for his lethal intent.

 _Oh God_.

Thoughts of home and how close he had just come to losing that clouded his mind. He was right in doing what he had done. The other soldier was going to kill him. He had saved himself and, if he was lucky, he could return home to Australia and be reunited with his little brother and his father once more. So why, oh dear God, _why_ did he feel so wretched? He swiped an arm across his face once more and was startled to find small damp patches where the tears he had unknowingly started to shed stained his jungle greens.

He looked up, eyes wide, and locked gazes with that of the Viet Cong, face bloodied from their encounter, eyes just as wide as his. He could now feel the tears rolling down his filthy cheeks and felt another ugly mixture of anger and fear boil up in his chest.

"Piss off!" He screamed, "Piss off back to where you came from you filthy bastard!"

The VC stood there uncomprehendingly, his words rolling off of him easily.

"I said piss off!"

Jack lurched forwards and felt a sharp sense of satisfaction as the other soldier took fright, turned and fled into the endless expanse of Vietnamese jungle. Then, without warning, his legs gave out from under him and he collapsed against the tree trunk, chest heaving with harsh sobs. That animalistic rage and fear that had possessed him during the squabble had well and truly left him.

"P-piss off," he cried, voice wavering, "a-all of you… just… piss off."

All energy left him then and he slumped forwards into his lap, unconscious in a country he did not know, surrounded by the whispered movement of animals in the jungle.


End file.
